


Faded Away

by jarediscronchtastic



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Flirty Connor, He can't help it, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Invisibility powers!, Mentions of Violence, connor is a ghost, post-DEH, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarediscronchtastic/pseuds/jarediscronchtastic
Summary: Connor has been following Evan ever since Evan first spoke to the Murphy's.  He notices Evan might just feel the same way he did before he died, and doesn't want to let another go down that path, making the same mistake he hates himself for every day.





	1. I'm your shadow

I've watched him. Evan. I've followed him. Not trying to be this creepy stalker guy, but honestly, I've had nothing better to do. Nobody else to follow. My family? Too depressing. Evan it is.

It's weird being a ghost. You expect to be able to float, swim around in the sky, but you can't. You can only walk. It's stupid.

I look down at my arms. Scars still coat them, burn marks and razor blade slices on my perfectly opaque arms.

Despite them being opaque to me, nobody can see me. Figures as much. Nobody really saw me before. I've disappeared.

Evan tried to prevent that from happening, I'm sure, what, with the Connor Project and all. But that all went to shit.

It went to shit a whole year ago. It's over. The orchard is starting fresh. I've been a few times, but just passing through. It hurt too much.

Now I'm following Evan. He's walking home from work, and he looks sad. Of course I know why he's sad, I followed him around all day, snooping in on his life.

He's sad because he got harassed at work today. He's sad because he found out he has a new step-brother. He's sad because his friend Jared told him he still doesn't forgive him. He's sad because his mom won't be home until two in the morning. He's sad because he went back to Ellison State Park on his way home.

He climbed up that tree and sat there.

I climbed up with him, sitting beside him. He wouldn't hear me anyway, but I didn't speak a word.

Evan sat there for a bit, crying softly. I could tell he wanted to jump, but he didn't. He just climbed right back down and kept on walking.

I follow him.

He's walking, walking on the wet pavement, wet from last night’s rainfall. Why is he going faster? I watch him, walking faster, faster, breaking out into a run. Curious and confused, I run beside him, feeling my worn boots pounding against the ground, but never hitting it, never splashing the puddles despite my boots feeling as if they slapped the water.

Light reflects on the water-shined tar streets, light reflecting on Evan’s face as he runs, eyes closed, face shining with tears, running right in the light of an oncoming SUV.

Shit.

Tires squeal to a halt, narrowly missing Evan. The driver yells something angrily, then drives around him. Evan topples to the ground, unhurt, but sobbing.

I try to move towards him, but I'm stuck in place. I watch helplessly as he staggers to his feet, staring off in the direction where the cars should be coming, but now it's dark. No more light. No more headlights to illuminate the street or his face or his tears.

Evan sighs, shaking his head, his whole body shaking, and goes back to the sidewalk, cursing at himself.

‘Idiot! You fucking idiot! You promised you wouldn't- I have to do this for Mom, she- she's said she wouldn't know how to handle herself if I wasn't alive, I can't be so fucking selfish, I need to just… just…

At that precise moment, he drops to his knees, crying into his hands.

I kneel down beside him, knowing it's stupid, and place a hand on his back.

Evan continues crying, his body quaking. Then, so quietly, so quietly I hardly register he's speaking, he whispers into his hands: “Who are you?”


	2. Take a look at the invisible boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "....before he fades away"
> 
>  
> 
> Connor follows Evan into his house, and acts like a child because who says you need to act mature when you're dead?

I'm so startled that I nearly fall backwards, but I catch myself.  Of course, it would be way better if I could  _ float _ , but whatever.   _ Who expected life after death to be much better anyway? _  “You can see me?” I finally manage.

 

Without turning to me, he shrugs.  “Yeah, I mean, I keep thinking you're this  _ thing  _ out of the corner of my eye, but I've kept seeing your figure.  Even before you died, I saw you at my window.”

 

_ Yeesh, I'm flattered _ .   _ He saw me before I died, before he thought I turned into some weird manifestation of his guilt and self-loathing _ .  

 

“You're Connor.  Connor Murphy, aren't you?

 

I smack my lips, and plop myself on the pavement beside him.  “Yep. In the flesh.” I chuckle at my own little joke, but he doesn't.

 

Instead, he stands up, and  _ still  _ without looking back, he starts to walk away.  

 

“Wow, okay, no talk, no ‘What's it like being dead, Connor?’  Or ‘Why've you been following me around like some creepy stalker, Connor?’ Or ‘How do you feel about the fact that I made myself famous and some pocket cash over your suicide?’  Nothing along those lines? Jeez,” I huff, wandering a few paces behind him. 

 

“Lea’ me alone,” he grumbles, walking faster.  “I'm not in the mood. God, I don't even know if you're real or not, or if I'm just bullshitting myself that I'm ‘not alone!’” He makes air quotes and lifts his voice up an octave for that last statement.  

 

Rolling my eyes, I match my pace to his, walking alongside him now.  “I'm real, okay? Just as real as the cast you  _ still  _ keep for some reason.”  I snicker, remembering how I watched him chuck the cast beneath his bed after taking a look at my name scribbled obnoxiously across the white plaster.

 

“Just go away? Please?  I had a really bad day, and looking like I'm talking to myself is just making it worse!  Fuck, I totally  _ am  _ talking to myself.”  He drags a hand down his tired face and sighs.  “Don't follow me. If you're even  _ real _ .”

 

“‘If you're even real!’” I mimic.  By some power I still can't really believe I have and can control, I make myself invisible, run ahead, and reappear, leaning against a fence.  “Can't get rid of me,” I tease in a sing-song voice.

 

Evan groans, not finding my little trick in any way amusing, and ignores me, continuing past.  

 

“Hmph.”

 

For the rest of the way to his home, I go back to being invisible.

 

When he pulls out his keys, he turns to me.  “I know you're there,” he says to the door. 

 

“Fuck.”  I make myself visible, and shoot in front of the door, preventing him from opening it.

 

“Hey-”

 

“Why'd you wanna kill yourself?” I ask casually, plucking the keys from his hands, and swirling them around.

 

Evan doesn't reply, and snatches his keys back.  He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and walks in, quickly slamming the door behind him, locking the door.

 

“Rude.”

 

I hear him sigh with exhaustion, and slump to the floor.  Next thing I know, quiet sobs are passing through the heavy wooden door.

 

And then I remember.  If I'm invisible, I can literally pass through  _ anything _ .  (I tried it out, it was fun, I messed up random shit in lockers back at school, pissing off a bunch of those dickwads who teased me.   _ Especially  _ Jared.  I stuck in some used condoms I found in the trash- of course, I used gloves-it was  _ priceless  _ to see his face!) 

 

Evan doesn't even flinch when I appear right in front of him, up in his face.  “Yo.”

 

He scowls, and gets up.  “You have two seconds to leave.”

 

“Eh, no thanks.”  I turn my hand invisible (a skill I mastered over the past month, only making certain parts of me change), and stick it through his chest, where it pops out on the other side, without touching any of his insides.  “Woo!!” I wiggle my fingers, having too much fun.

 

Evan pushes me away, my hand popping out of his chest, perfectly clean and dry as it reverts to its visible form.  I love that, how even when I'm ‘visible’ I can choose who can see me. I guess I subconsciously wanted Evan to see me before.

 

“You can clearly see I'm feeling like shit, so go away!” He exclaims suddenly, glaring at me while I jump on his couch noiselessly.   _ Cool! _ _ Wait.  How come he felt me but I'm not making any impact with the couch causing noise?  Why aren't I sinking into the cushions? Ugh. I wish there was some guidebook on this shit.  Or I paid better attention in physics. Nah, fuck that, I want a ghost guidebook. _

 

Caught up in marveling at the weirdness (still! It's been two years!), I don’t notice Evan has left the room.

 

Groaning, I wander around the small house.  “Evan?”

 

I hear him gently curse from the next room over.  “Thought you left already.” Soon, he reemerges, holding two mugs of steaming liquid as he glowers at me.

 

“What’s that?” I take a mug anyway, sniffing it.   _ Hot chocolate? _

 

He confirms my thoughts and shrugs.  “It’s bad manners not to treat a guest by giving them food or something to drink, so there you go.  For your troubles. Now, drink, then kindly leave, okay? I still don’t know why you’re here.”

 

I gulp it down, feeling the hot liquid coat my throat, the rich chocolate filling my senses.  “Thanks!” I finish it quickly, wiping my mouth on my hand, causing him to wince.

 

“Seriously, what’s the big idea?  Following me?” Evan takes a tiny sip of his drink, then settles into an armchair, the upholstery worn and faded, stuffing coming out of one of the armrests on the side.  

 

“I ‘unno.  Felt like it, I guess.”  

 

Evan lifts an eyebrow, then downs his cocoa.  “Well, whatever. Could you go now?”

 

“Wow, you  _ really  _ want to get rid of me, don’tcha?” I make myself pop up on the chair with him, perched on the torn armrest.  

 

He looks even more tired, and gets up, setting down his half full (half empty, by his standards, I guess) mug.  “I don’t know if you even exist. Logic says you can’t possibly be real, and it’s just my meds acting up.” Even he sounds doubtful, however.

 

I hold my empty mug up for him, then turn it over to show there’s nothing in there.  “See? Now, if I didn’t exist, there’d be no one to drink it, and this would be full, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Hmph.”  He gets up, and picks up my mug, moving towards the kitchen.

 

In a flash, my hand impacts with his chest, shoving him down.

 

Evan glares up at me, still clutching the intact mug, his face red.  “Okay, what the fuck was  _ that  _ for?!” he exclaims, then grimaces.  “Jerk.”

 

I stand over him, smirking.  “Now if I wasn’t real, would I be able to do that?”  I offer my hand to help him up, but he stands up without me.

 

“You couldn’t have, ya know, been a bit gentler?” Evan grits his teeth, then brings the mug to the sink.

 

Folding my arms across my chest, I shake my head.   “Where’s the fun in that?  Gives a nice sense of déjà vu, eh?”

 

Evan gives me a look as if to say  _ “what the fuck is wrong with you?”  _  then sinks back into the chair, closing his eyes.  “If you don’t leave when I open my eyes, I’m gonna… I’m gonna do  _ something _ , okay?”

 

“Wow, I’m  _ quaking _ ,” I tease, reclining across his lap, my legs dangling over the armrest.

 

“Get off of me,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

 

_ He can feel me?  Well, of course he does.  Nothing makes sense when you’re a dead ghost.  Wait. That doesn’t make sense. You gotta be dead to be a ghost in the first place _ -

 

“Hey, you listening?”

 

“Wha-?”

 

In a swift movement, he stands up, causing me to land hard on my back as I fall off of his lap.  “Not cool!” I complain, but notice that I don’t feel any pain. “Evan? Evan!”

 

I get up, scampering after him as he walks up the staircase.  

  
  


When he sees that I’m behind him, he slams the door in my face angrily.  “Why can’t you just go away?!” He yells through the door.

 

I spread out on his bed.  It’s not as soft as what I’m used to, the blankets  _ clearly  _ not the silky sheets I’m used to.   _ I wonder what it’s like to not have money.  At least as a ghost I can do whatever the hell I want, I don’t  _ need _ money.  Huh. Not needing money.  I didn’t even think about that _ .  “Because it’s boring to be on my own,” I respond, dragging a finger across the shelving of his headboard, dust gathering on my fingertip.   _ So I can pick up dust and leave traces.  Interesting. Still, it’s been like two years and only  _ now  _ do I discover the cool shit I can do _ .

 

Furious, but not surprised, Evan whirls around, lunging at the bed, trying to hit me, I guess.  

 

I dart out of the way with ease.  “Wow, if you want me, just ask,” I chuckle, slowly unzipping my sweatshirt, but halting after a few inches.

 

“Ugh.  So immature.”  Evan shakes his head.  “Please. Last time. Go.  Away. You know I had a shitty day, for God’s sakes, I, I almost, I almost  _ killed myself _ today!” 

 

We both fall silent, staring at each other, his eyes wide and teary.  

 

“ _ Please _ .”  His word comes out as if another word will break him, as if the effort might ruin him.

 

Now, I won’t admit it, not to myself, not out loud, anyway, not to  _ him _ , but I sorta care about him.  He was the only one, despite his intentions being mixed of good and bad, who tried to preserve my memory.  He didn’t want to feel alone, he wanted to be a part of something, he wanted to  _ help _ .  And honestly… I like that.  Besides, he… god. He wants to  _ die _ .   _ Shouldn’t he know, though, after all of this, that death hurts so many people around you?  Now, I’m not saying I completely regret it, but to witness someone else… _  “Evan, I-”

 

"Go away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor still is getting used to being a ghost after all this time, apparently.
> 
>  
> 
> Ummmmmm yeah so uhhh kinda lousy past two days..... *sigh*..... but I pushed myself to make another chapter, it's pretty fun writing a Connor, especially when he's not being a TOTAL jerk, just more of an annoying, slightly flirtatious ghost boy. Yeah. Anyway.


	3. The pretty lies, the ugly truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor watches Evan cry and tries to get him to open up.

I settle against the back wall of Evan’s room, sitting in a beanbag chair.  It's slightly uncomfortable, but it's still nice nonetheless. I'm thankful that the chair doesn't dip because of my weight.  I'm not even sure why I chose to stay here. No. I suppose I know why. Weird as it seems, I kinda want to look after him. It's stupid.  Fucking guardian angel type shit, maybe.

 

He probably thinks I've left, especially since I said about twenty minutes ago; “yeah, alright, whatever, I'm going, geez.” 

 

Evan’s asleep now, he fell asleep fast.  I feel weird about watching him. 

 

But then that's when I realise he's  _ not  _ asleep.  He's crying, so faint that I can hardly catch it, and as I watch closer, I can see his body moving, trembling.  He's muttering something to himself. 

 

I creep closer, kneeling beside him, still invisible.  

 

“I made such a mess, such a mistake, now it's back to haunt me, I never should've… I’m so stupid, now he's back.. I can't let go.  Dr. Sherman says I need to let go, but I can't, I can't! It's all my fault, I ruined  _ everything _ !”  He hugs his blanket to his face.  “Jared still hates me, Zoe still hates me, the Murphy’s still hate me,  _ I  _ hate me!”  Evan takes a shuddering breath, and rolls onto his back, blinking away tears as he gazes up at the ceiling.  There are a few glow-in-the-dark stars, but mostly spots of glue where they used to be. “And now, my stupid fucking mind is making up all this shit about Connor’s ghost following me around.  I need to get better meds, or check into a facility,” he mumbles, putting his hands on his face.

 

I can't take this.  I reappear, and sit next to him on the bed.  “Hey…”

 

He laughs dryly.  “You heard me fucking talking to myself?”  There's a sniffling noise, and then: “I can't  _ believe  _ you're still here.  I want you to go away.  Please.”

 

“Too bad,” I say, then nudge him.  “Move over, your beanbag is hella uncomfortable.”

 

“You were on my beanbag this  _ whole  _ time?”  He moves over.

 

I offer a not-so-apologetic shrug, then lie down.

 

“Well, goodnight, Connor Murphy,” he announces abruptly, rolling over, gathering the blanket around him.

 

But not before I catch a glimpse of another tear rolling down his cheek.  I debate mentioning it, asking him if he even wants to  _ talk _ , but I decide not to.  He’ll yell at me to get out, or ignore me and pretend he's sleeping.

 

“I am real,” I state out of the blue.  “It seems ridiculous, but I am. You're not making this up.  I mean, shit, that's  _ exactly  _ what a made-up thing would say, but still.  I exist. I don't even want to think about  _ how _ , but I'm here.”  I become aware that I'm wearing my boots in his bed.  Even though it doesn't really matter, I kick them off.  “And… and I kinda watched you for the past two years,” I add, slightly shamefully.   _ Slightly _ .

 

Instead of answering, Evan looks over with surprise.  “Check it out.”

 

“Hm?”

 

He gestures towards my legs.  “Based on what was happening before, you would expect the blanket to be flat, despite being on your body, as whenever you sat down, there was no indication, visible or not.  And now you can see you have legs. That's weird.”

 

I laugh, delighted in a childlike way, and kick my feet around.  “You're right!” I'm even more delighted, however, when I see he's smiling a bit.  “I still don't know how this ghost shit works, man.”

 

“It's really confusing,” he agrees.

 

There's a couple of minutes where we stay in silence.  I'm not sure what's in his head, but right now, I want to help.  He helped my family, hell, at least  _ tried  _ to.  But now I want to help him.  I died, I killed myself, I was almost forgotten by the whole damn world, like I never even existed.  But Evan, even though he sorta fucked up along the way, he didn't let that happen. And now… 

 

“Are you okay?” I whisper into the dark.

 

He doesn't answer, so I wonder if he is finally asleep, but then he does.  “Yeah. I'm fine.”

 

“Alright.”  I let out a heavy sigh.  “Thought you might wanna, ya know,  _ talk _ , or whatever.”

 

He tilts his head, looking at me.  Light from outside reflects in his eyes.  “ _ Talk _ ?  About what?”

 

_ About the fact that you want to kill yourself?  Even though you know, because of ME, that it's a horrible idea and will hurt your mom?  And probably others?  _ “About anything,” I decide upon.

 

Evan stares at me, probably trying to gauge whether or not I'm being serious.  “Yeah. Uh. No, thanks.”

 

“Your mom would really miss you, you know.  So would Zoe, my parents, even Jared and Alana.”   _ And me _ , I add mentally.

 

He narrows his eyes.  “Stop it. That's not fair.”

 

“Isn't it?  You made a name for yourself off of my death, I think I earn the right to tell you not to kill yourself,” I scoff, feigning confidence.

 

Yeah, that was a bad idea.

 

“Get the fuck out of my bed!”  Evan snaps, kicking me, but I refuse to budge.  “I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I fucked up, but you can't tell me how to live my life!  Or rather, to live it in the first place, when you're not even alive!” He falls silent.  “I'm sorry. That, that was out of line.”

 

“No.”  I peel off the blanket.  “You were right. I don't know what I was thinking.  Trying to help someone not make another huge fucking mistake!”  I laugh without any joy. 

 

“Who said I wanted help?  Who said I wanted someone to keep me from ending it?”

 

“Don't you want help?”  I frown. “You don't want to do it because you don't want to hurt people.  But other times you don't care, you want to do it despite all that. That means you want help, doesn't it?”

 

“Did you want help?” He challenges, sitting up.

 

I pause.  “Yes, actually.  It's not one of those things you can stop on your own, you know.  It's an addiction, and I wanted someone to pull me out from my head.  My ex-boyfriend did that for a bit, I wished my parents could, hell, weed helped, but nothing was a solid fix.  I just kept on feeling like I was burning, and the only way to douse the flame was to.. well. To bite the bullet, so to speak.”

 

I expect him to ask about my ex, my parents, the pot, or to yell, cry, or say sorry.  (For what exactly, I'm not sure.)

 

“Is it doused?” He asks carefully.  “Your burning, the fire. Is it gone?”

 

Huh.  I never actually thought about it.  “Sometimes,” I answer honestly. “Sometimes it's gone.  Other times, it's worse than it's ever been.”

 

He nods.  “Do you, um…” he takes a heavy sigh.  “Are you mad at me for what I did?”

 

_ I wasn’t expecting that so soon _ .  “I was.  But… you made sure I wasn’t forgotten, and that’s important.”

 

“I hurt your family, though, false hope.”

 

I furrow my eyebrows.  “Do you  _ want  _ me to be mad at you?”

 

Evan’s surprised by this.  “I-” He licks his lips, a habit I noticed over time.  “I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel right for you to forgive me, er, not  _ forgive  _ me, but to not hate me.”

 

“I don’t think I am, actually.  I don’t think I’m mad at you. Disappointed, maybe.  But mad? No.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He settles back into bed, curled up away from me.  “Why can’t you let me do what I want?” he mumbles.

 

_ Shit, Evan _ .  Cautiously, I sit next to him, and place a hand on his head.  “I care about you.”

 

There’s a huff of sarcastic laughter.  “You don’t know anything about me, who I am.”  He jerks his head away, and I hear him breathe through a stuffy nose as a result of the constant crying.

 

“Sure I do.  Your name is Mark Evan Hansen.  You hate Mark because that’s your dad’s name.  Nobody uses it except on legal papers and occasionally in school.  Sometimes Jared to make fun of you, or if he’s mad. Your dad left when you were young, has his own family, he lives across the country in Colorado.  You went to his wedding with your mom, and she tried to hold it together, but fell apart in front of you, and you’ve never forgotten that moment since.”

 

“So?” Comes his response.

 

I continue.  “Jared never acts like a proper friend to you, never has, probably never will.  No offense,” I add, just in case.

 

“Whenever people say ‘no offense,’ they really mean ‘full offense,’” Evan comments bitterly.

 

I roll my eyes.  “You used to have a crush on my sister, but you were too scared to talk to her because your hands were too sweaty, but then you ended up dating her.  That is, before you told her your fragile relationship was built on a lie.”

 

Evan squeezes his body tighter within itself.  “You used to be there, talking to me,” he says, muffled by the blankets and pillows.

 

_ Huh?   _ “I never spoke to you until today.”

 

“Yeah.”  Evan shifts around in the bed, still having his back to me.  “You were the one who told me to prevent people from forgetting you.  You told me to keep up the lie because it was the only thing holding together your family.  I should’ve listened to you.”

 

I sit down, slowly touching his shoulder.  “Evan…”

 

He shakes me off.  “I know, I know. I’m crazy.  He wasn’t real, it was just something I made up in my head, I guess.  Still not totally convinced our interactions tonight have been any different.  I used to be able to feel his touch, the  _ other _ ghost of you, so… who knows.  Maybe I just need to sleep this all off.  Or find a way to rid myself of the guilt.”  Evan looks at me now. “Oh, wait! I  _ did _ find a way!  But you wouldn’t let me.”

 

“You were the one who didn’t jump out of the tree today,” I point out gently.  “You didn’t try to get another car to hit you. You knew. Something inside you, you knew you shouldn’t- today wasn’t your day to die.”

 

“Ugh!”  He throws a pillow at me, and I allow it to smack into my stomach.  “You, Dr. Sherman,  _ Mom _ , you all say the same fucking thing!  I don’t know why I didn’t do it, but it’s  _ not  _ because I want ‘help’ or I ‘don’t  _ really  _ want to die,’ or any of that other bullshit!  I just didn’t do it. Simple as that.”

 

_ He’s really getting on my nerves right now _ .  I growl, pouncing on the bed, pulling away the blanket to force him to pay attention to me.  “Listen to me. You can’t fucking kill yourself, okay? You have a mom who loves you, she needs you…. Evan.. she said she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you died, you can’t do that to her.   _ Or _ Jared.  He cares about you.”  I grip one of his hands, ignoring the voice in my head hollering  _ “gay!”  _ and make him look at me.  “I care about you. As fucked up as it is, I’ve watched and followed you for so long.  We’re both fucked up, neither of us should die. I shouldn’t have. And  _ you  _ allowed people to see that.”

 

He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

 

“Not just with the lies, the fake stories and memories, with your passion, I could hear it in your voice.  You wanted,  _ truly  _ wanted, people to listen, to  _ care _ .”

 

“I…” Evan pulls his hand free, but stays the way he was.  “Do you regret it?”

 

I tilt my head, confused.

 

“Killing yourself.  Do you regret it?”

 

I don’t even need to think about the answer.  The answer has been on my mind the past years.  I give him a sad smile. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here.


	4. Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor realises he might be sorta into Evan when he is allowed to stay over, happy to be on the road to friendship.

Evan allowed me, after a bit of begging, to stay over.  I can't help it, he has a comfy bed, and I'm sick of trying to find places to sleep in where people don't shriek that they can feel something there.  I can't go back home, either. Too hard.

 

So, I'm beside him in the bed.  It's a small bed, twin-sized mattress, so as hard as he tries, our bodies end up touching.  

 

I'm not being a perv or anything, but honestly, it's nice to sleep next to a guy.  I mean, a person. Something warm. Doesn't even have to be a cute boy I've been basically stalking for two years.  Of course not.

 

He's fallen asleep, I think.  I don't hear any crying, anyhow.  

 

I roll onto my side, facing him, well, facing his back.  Slowly, I reach out a hand, resting it on his back. My fingers sink slightly into his body, which I note with interest.  I pull my fingers away, and watch as his body lifts and falls with each breath.

 

That steady rhythm keeps going for hours, and then I fall asleep.

 

Evan awakes, and stifles a scream when he sees me next to him as I wake up.

 

“You-you're still here!” He exclaims, seemingly surprised.

 

“Mm… yeah.”  I sit up, rubbing my eyes.  “How'd you sleep?”

 

He doesn't answer, and instead climbs out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans.  “You stayed for the night, now you're leaving.”

 

_ Right _ .  I pose myself on the bed, fluttering my eyelashes seductively.  “Oh, kicking me out after a great night? Why don't I stay a little longer?” I tease, dragging my forefinger around in the mattress, eyes on him. 

 

He doesn't even bother to glance at me.  “Scram. Go haunt some kids, or something.”

 

I pout and cross my arms as I sit up.  “I'm hurt, you think I spook kids all day?”

 

“I know you don't, you're always following me,” he retaliates.

 

I jump out of the bed, and put my hand on his arm.  “Are you gonna be okay?” I ask, concerned and serious now.

 

Evan shrugs, looking uncomfortable.  “It doesn't matter.”

 

“Yeah, it does, I-”. I stop speaking when I hear someone rap at the door.

 

“Sweetie?  May I come in?”   _ His mom, Heidi _ .

 

“S-sure, Mom!”

 

She enters, right as I make myself invisible.

 

I watch as she eyes the room with interest, the bed messy on both sides.  “Did you have company last night?” She asks, amusement in her voice.

 

Evan blushes, and shakes his head.  “N-no, nobody, I just… had a nightmare is all, I was moving around a lot,” he explains.

 

Heidi nods, and puts her hands on her hips.  “I was thinking, since I have work, you should go and spend time with a friend!  Someone from work?” 

 

Evan cringes, but it's so subtle so Heidi doesn't catch it.  “M-maybe.”

 

“Or Jared?” She adds, which makes Evan look sick.

 

“Sure!” He croaks, scratching at the back of his neck. 

 

Heidi smiles, pleased, and nods.  She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and turns back to the door.  “I don't want another day of you staying in on your computer, got that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She waves, then leaves.

 

Evan stays standing and sighs.  

 

Against my common sense, I hug him, holding him from behind.   _ The feeling of someone in my arms is-  am I treating him like a replacement? _

 

He yelps, and swats around him, and I remember I'm invisible.

 

I reappear, and he glares at me.  “That wasn't funny,” he growls. “And I don't- I don't want to be touched, okay?”

 

“Right, sorry.”  I'm not sorry. “So, you gonna hang out with Jared today?”

 

Evan doesn't say anything, and goes to lock the door.  He pulls out his computer, and I begin to laugh.

 

“Oh my god, are you gonna jack off?  Is that why your mom said you're always on your computer?” 

 

He grows bright red, and clutches his laptop to his chest.  “Of course not!”

 

“You locked the door,” I point out.

 

“Yeah, because it swings open from the wind,” he says through gritted teeth.  “But I thought you would know that since you've been stalking me for a while.”

 

I pout, then sit on his bed.  “Alright, whatcha gonna do then?”

 

Evan sits beside me on the bed and opens his computer.  “I'm a writer.” He says simply.

 

Interested, I lean over.  “What do you write?”

 

“Just… stuff,” he mumbles, logging in.

 

Annoyed with his lack of a proper answer, I grab his computer, causing him to yelp, and open up his most recent Word document.  I expect, due to his immense secrecy, to find some filthy erotic fiction, but what I find is a billion times better. “Trees: Why They Matter,” I read out loud.  “Seriously?”

 

He blushes, and pulls his computer back.  “D-don't judge me.”

 

I reach over, and open up a list of his recent documents, hoping to find more ridiculous things to tease him about.

 

Before he can stop me, I click on a random one and say the title.  “No One Deserves To Be Forgotten.”

 

_ What the shit does that mean? _  Despite his protests, I take his computer and scroll through the document.  Dozens of faces look back at me, one of them is my own. I read the writing beside my image.  “Connor Murphy, committed suicide at age eighteen. Beloved son of Cynthia and Larry Murphy, brother of Zoe Murphy.  Connor was an avid reader and adored drawing. A charming young man who, even if he had trouble showing it, had a lot of love in his heart.  He-” I stop, and drop the computer to the bed. 

 

Evan looks terrified, quickly closing the computer, looking at me with wide eyes.  “C-Connor, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean, I just, I-”

 

“What is this?”

 

He's startled by my lack of emotion, or lack of an outburst, I guess.  “It's… it's just a thing. I wanted to write about.. about teens who committed suicide and how their memories should live on.  B-because it doesn't really matter if they were some famous writer like Sylvia Plath, or, or Ned Vizzini, people don't deserve to just, to just be forgotten…”

 

I look over at him, shaking like if I raise my voice he might shatter into pieces.  It's both pathetic and cute. “Is this supposed to be more of the Connor Project bullshit?” I ask, glaring at him.  “Or is it because you don't want to be forgotten when  _ you  _ bite the bullet like the rest of us?”

 

He inches away, eyes swimming with tears.  “I-”

 

“You don't want to  _ help _ ,” I growl.  “You're just  _ selfish _ .”  I advance closer, making him move back.

 

“C-Con-Connor, wait, I didn't- I didn't mean to-” he scoots back as I lean over him, falling off of the bed, staring up in fear.

 

I don't even know why I'm so angry.  What he's doing is actually really cool, but something just.. I don't know.  The way I'm described, it's not  _ me _ .  I’m not the type to be described with nice words.  

 

I lift a fist above him, ready to strike, but I stop, noticing how he's whimpering and covering his face, trembling like a kicked puppy out in the rain.  

 

I move away, ashamed suddenly.   _ Shit, shit, shit _ .

 

Slowly, he moves his arm away from over his face, and looks up, surprised I'm not beating him to a pulp.  “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, his body relaxing.

 

I sit next to him, which makes him grow tense.  “It's okay. I'm sorry I overreacted,” I whisper.   _ Wow, look at me, being apologetic and shit! _

 

“I'll delete it,” he assures me, swiping a hand over his eyes. 

 

I rest a hand on his knee.  “Don't, it's okay, it's a good thing you're doing, Evan.”

 

He looks down at my hand.  “Is there anything you, is there anything you wanna do today?”

 

“You mean you're not getting rid of me?” I ask, surprised.

 

He chuckles, shrugging.  “It seems like I can't.”

 

I smile fondly at him, then stand up, offering my hand to help him up.  “Wanna haunt some kids?”

 

Evan bursts out laughing, an intense laughter, clutching at his sides.

 

“That wasn't even that funny!” I protest, laughing along with him.

 

“It wasn't,” he agrees as he catches his breath.  “But the timing was great!”

 

I smirk, then grab him into a hug.  “I'm sorry I scared you, Evan. I don't mean to be a dick, ya know.”

 

Hesitantly, he hugs me back.  “It-it's okay. I'm sorry for making you upset.”

 

_ He's hugging me back, why can't my mind focus on anything except for that?  _

 

“No, you're all good,” I manage finally.

 

“Connor..?”  Evan says quietly after a couple of moments.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Um… you gonna let go?”  

 

I notice that his arms are awkwardly at his sides, while mine are tightly around him.   _ Shit _ .  I spring back, embarrassed, thankful I don't have some ghost-boner.  (Can I even get a boner when I'm dead?) “Sorry.”

 

He smiles and tilts his head.  “So, plans for today?”

 

A wicked idea grows in my mind, and I smile back at him.  “I was kinda serious, you know, what if we scare your coworkers?  They're always assholes to you, what if we screw with em?”

 

“I-I dunno,” he says nervously.  “I don't wanna hurt anyone.”

 

“Who said anything about hurting?  Just a little scare here and there!”  

 

He thinks for a moment.  “Well… I  _ guess _ it could feel  _ kinda  _ good,” he admits slowly.

 

I crack my knuckles, and select a pen and a piece of paper from his desk.  “What’s first on the list?”


	5. I am too tired to hold myself carefully.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor uses his invisibility to help Evan get some revenge on nasty coworkers... only things don't exactly go as planned.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning- Offensive homophobic language, violence, etc.

The first person on our list is Julia Morrison.  She's a stuck-up bitch who, whenever she can, trips Evan, pushes him, or forces him to take the blame whenever something breaks or gets ruined.  I want to do something like flush her keys down the toilet, or squeeze some superglue in her purse, but Evan insists that's going too far. Eh, he's the boss.

 

Evan enters the store, saying something to his boss about how he thinks he forgot his cell phone in his little cubby area yesterday, and if it would be alright if he went to fetch it.

 

He spots Julia’s familiar blonde ponytail, and nods his head slightly in her direction.  Evan walks slowly to the back while I quickly head over to Julia.

 

She's showing off some couch to a middle-aged couple who are ooh-ing and ahh-ing as she describes the ‘glorious’ details of a boring-ass brown leather couch. 

 

I stick out my leg in front of her and she begins to walk the couple to another lame couch, which unfortunately causes a slight stumble, but nothing more.  Annoyed, I try again, no such luck.

 

_ Hmph _ .  As soon as her back is turned, and making sure nobody else can see, except for Evan, of course, I nudge a fluffy faux-fur beanbag chair in her way.  She doesn't see it, so when she takes another step, she falls, her petite body nearly swallowed up by the fur. 

 

I laugh, watching her attempt to regain her composure and make her way out of the sinking material in  _ heels _ .  I notice Evan trying to hide his giggles, hurriedly going to the back of the store now.   _ Man, selective invisibility rocks! _

 

I follow him, chuckling and proud of my little prank.  Once we’re out of view of any others, I clap a hand on his back.  “So? What'd you think?”

 

Evan lets out a laugh finally and gives me a thumbs up.  “I feel a bit guilty, but mostly glad to let her know how it feels practically every single day!”

 

“Nice to see you happy,” I say, and it's true, his smile is a nice, rare treat.

 

He blushes, then shakes his head.  “It's because of you, thanks for your help!”

 

“Heh, no prob.”

 

Before we leave, I quickly reach a hand inside Julia’s cubby, into her purse, so fast that Evan doesn't see it.  When I pull out my hand, I see I snatched her wallet.  _ Sweet!  Take that, Julia! _

 

Once we’re out the door, I mentally go over the list, checking off Julia’s name.  “Alright, next is-”

 

“Say, Max, isn't that little Evan  _ Fag _ -sen?”

 

_ Max Campbell, and his sidekick, Ariana Perkins _ .  

 

Evan visibly squirms, and I rest a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. 

 

Max crosses his arms, giving Evan a toothy smile.  “Why, yes it is, Ariana!”

 

“H-hey, M-M-Max, and Ar-Ariana,” he mumbles, digging his toe into the pavement.

 

“Aw, look, the f-f-fag can’t even speak p-pr-properly!” Ariana coos, cupping Evan’s face in her hand.

 

He whimpers, which makes them laugh.  “N-nice to see you, b-both.”

 

Ariana pulls her hand away, then reaches into her pocket for her cell phone.  While she texts, she glances at Evan through her long lashes, chunky mascara at the ends.  “How about you make yourself useful and get me something from Starbucks across the street before my shift starts? Large pumpkin spice latte.”

 

Evan doesn’t even protest, and nods lamely.  “Yes, m-ma’am.”

 

“Make it two,” chimes in Max, handing him a crumpled ten.

 

When Evan turns around, Max gives him a little shove into the street, in the direction of a speeding motorcycle.  Quickly, I nudge Evan to the side, keeping him safe.

 

“Those two are assholes, why are you even doing what they want?” I grumble angrily as we cross at our light.

 

He doesn’t answer, but I notice his fists are clenched.  

 

Evan hardly manages to properly order the coffees, but he silently denies me from doing it for him with a slight shake of his head when I open my mouth.  He’s right, we can’t risk me being recognised as the dead kid that was an internet star for a few weeks, so I stay visible to only him. While he pays, I steal a plastic-wrapped pumpkin muffin, and tuck it in my pocket.

 

“What took so long?” Max barks, taking his coffee.

 

“S-s-sorry, Max.”  He offers the other coffee to Ariana, and right as her fingers graze the cup, I reach forward, squeezing it so scalding hot coffee soaks her stupid pink blouse.

 

She yelps loudly, dropping the cup, glaring at Evan.  “You little fucker!” She screams. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

_ Oops _ .   _ Bad idea, Connor, very bad idea _ .

 

Evan’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back, but he’s up against a parked car.  “I-I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t mean t-to, I can go and g-g-get some napkins-” 

 

“Shut up!” Ariana shoves him to the ground, where Evan slams to the sidewalk with a sickening noise.  “You can’t do anything right, you fucking idiot!”

 

Rage fills me, and I punch her, right in the gut, causing her to fall with both an annoyed and surprised look on her face, likely wondering just where the hell that punch even came from.

 

Max doesn’t bother to help her, but instead directs his attention to Evan.  “You know what they all say about you? You’re the poor faggot who can’t do anything right.  You’re a disappointment, that’s why your father left,” he spits. “You tried to get attention by telling the world about your dead ex-boyfriend, too, didn’t you?  You’re nothing, and you’ll never be worth anything, you little bitch!” He kicks Evan’s side, who curls up, sobbing.

 

_ Why the fuck aren’t there anybody around to stop these dicks? _

 

“You know what else they say?” Max says in a dangerously low voice.  “They say you broke your arm trying to  _ kill yourself _ .”

 

“No…” Evan whimpers as another blow lands.

 

“Well, you know what  _ I  _ say, then?”  He leans down close, grabbing Evan’s collar.  “You should’ve tried  _ harder _ .”

 

_ How dare you say that about him?!   _ I try to pull Max away, but it’s no use. 

 

Ariana is beside him now, smiling cockily, despite her ruined blouse.

 

I dive for her, pushing her back down, and I don’t notice until it’s too late that Max is back to beating Evan.

 

Both scared and angry, I abandon Ariana, and turn my attention back to him.

 

“Help!” Evan tries, a strangled cry, but Max puts a big, meaty hand over his mouth.

 

I shove Max off of him again, and his head whips around, furious and confused.

 

Right before he can try anything more, I reach for the nearest thing I can, a rock, which I haul at his head.  

 

Max turns again, but seeing nobody still, he shouts: “Who the fuck threw a fucking rock at me?”

 

I throw another, causing Max to run away, a pissed-off-looking Ariana at his heels.

 

_ That’s right, run you fuckers! _

 

As soon as they're gone, I rush to Evan’s side.  “Oh my god, hey, speak to me, are you okay? Shit!”  

Evan is shaking like a leaf, crying harder than I’ve seen him.  

 

I sigh, looking around.  I make myself completely visible to the world, and pull my hood over my head, so nobody would recognise me if they gave me a second look.  I gather the boy in my arms, and he clings to my sweatshirt.

 

“It’ll be okay, shh, don’t cry, I’ll get you home.”

 

_ This is all my fault _ .

 

I run back to his place, holding him tightly.  He isn’t even heavy, but I’m sure he would be if I wasn’t so damn worried.

 

I make myself invisible when we arrive, so I can slip a hand through the door to unlock it.  I carry him up to his room, gently setting him down on his bed in my regular form.

 

I move to leave, but he whimpers, reaching out for me.  “D-don’t g-g-go,  _ please _ .”

 

“Ev…” I kneel down by his bed.  “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have provoked them if my stupid brain realised it would get you hurt, I, I didn’t think, I’m so sorry.”   _ He’s the only person I’ve really apologised to in so long.  Not even Miguel, I can remember _ . 

 

“No,” he whispers.  “It’s okay. Th-thank you for fi-fighting for me, and-and saving me, bringing me h-h-ho-home.”

 

Bringing a hand to his face, I wipe away his tears.  “I wasn’t going to stand by and watch those assholes hurt you.  I’m sorry they did.”

 

He sniffles.  “Con, I- everything h-hurts…” 

 

_ Right _ .  “Okay, can you walk?”

 

Evan tries to stand, but falls backwards onto his bed helplessly.  

 

I pick him up again, carrying him to the bathroom, cradling him in my arms.  I set him down onto the closed toilet carefully. “Where are the bandages and stuff?”

 

“U-under the ca-cabinet.”

 

Retrieving a first-aid kit, I open it up beside the sink.  “Let’s see here. Alright…” I look back at him, a bit nervous about what I’m about to ask of him.  “You’re gonna have to take off your top layers.”

 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to fight, and takes off his sweatshirt and t-shirt, revealing nasty bruises of all sorts of colours.  Now, I’m no medical expert, but I know that whenever bruises change colours, it indicates their age. “These aren’t from today,” I note, pointing at some greenish ones on his hip.

 

Evan shrugs.  “No, they aren’t,” he acknowledges.

 

“Shit.  Alright.”  I wash my hands, then take out some cream for bruises.  “Now, let me know if this hurts.” I gently rub the medicine into the different spots, causing him to wince.  I stop, but he gives me a weak smile, prompting me to continue.

 

After a few minutes, his entire torso is cleaned of any blood and coated in various creams.   _ Oh, Evan _ .   _ What have they done to you?  How did I not even notice this?   _ I cut a bandage, and wrap it around him, tying it off.   _ Now, for the arms _ .

 

Both arms are like his torso, a watercolour painting of red, purple, green, and yellow-brown.  “Evan, why haven’t you told your boss or something?” I ask as I begin to tend to these wounds.

 

“I-it’s no b-b-big deal.”

 

I drop the tube of cream in surprise.  “No big, no big deal?!” I make him look at me.  “Evan, this is a  _ very  _ big deal.  I mean, look at you!”

 

He bows his head in shame.  “I-I know it’s st-stu-stupid, but…”

 

“But you think you deserve it,” I finish, understanding now.

 

“Thanks for t-t-taking care of me,” he says quietly, standing on wobbly legs.  

 

Quickly, I reach out, supporting his body before he can fall over.  “Hey, careful! Let me take care of your face, too, okay?”

 

He nods as I gently dab at his face with a cotton ball soaked in warm water, cleaning away dirt and caked blood.  I add more medicine to his face, and go extra careful around his bruised right eye that is nearly swollen shut. “Why don’t we get you in bed, and, and I’ll make you something to eat?”

 

“You should- you do-don’t, you don’t need to stay.”  Evan stands once I'm done, grabbing onto the edge of the sink instead for balance.

 

I sigh, putting the kit away.  “Don’t be stupid, let me take care of you.”

 

“No!” He yells, startling me.  “Le-lea-leave me alone, please, I’m fine.”

 

_ I can’t take this _ .  “You are  _ not _ fine!” I roar, taking his hands.  “Now, let me help your stubborn ass back in bed and make you lunch.”

 

He gives in,  _ thank god _ , and I tuck him in like a child. “Don’t even think about getting up,” I warn before leaving his room to go downstairs to the kitchen.

 

Based on what I’ve gathered, Evan doesn’t eat much.  He forgets, or gets too scared to talk to people to place orders for food.  So, I have no idea what he even likes. I consider just  _ asking _ , but I don’t want to bother him; he’s had a rough day.   _ Because I suggested we face his bullies _ .  

 

Hunting through the refrigerator and the cabinets, I pull out the things I can use.

 

*****

After some trial and error cooking, I juggle a bowl of steaming hot macaroni and cheese in one hand, a glass of water in the other as I go back up to his room.  

 

When I get back, he’s sitting up, looking at a couple of polaroids, resting his face in his hands.

 

I don’t realise I’ve been just standing there and watching like an idiot until he says: “I know you’re there, Connor.  You can come in,” in a heavy voice.

 

“Right.”  I come in, and place the bowl and the glass on his desk.  Then, I pull out his desk chair, bringing it to the side of his bed, and I put the food there, retrieving the muffin from my pocket, and setting it beside the bowl.  “I made you some mac and cheese. I don’t even know if you like mac and cheese, but… yeah. I also stole a muffin from Starbucks earlier, so, there you go.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Uninvited, I sit next to him on the bed, subconsciously putting an arm around him.

 

“Here, take a look.”  He hands me the pictures, and leans against me, letting out a breath of air, closing his eyes.

 

_ So cute _ .  I look at the top picture, a smiling young boy, Evan, with a mess of blond hair.  He has a smear of mud on one cheek, and he is waving to the camera, the other hand holding some ridiculously large bug.  Turning to the next, there’s Evan again, a bit younger, sleeping and nestled in the lap of his mother, who is grinning down at him.  The next picture is of a man I’ve never seen before holding Evan up in the air, both of them laughing.

 

“That’s my dad,” Evan whispers, his good eye open.  “It’s the only picture I still have with him. Mom destroyed all the others, tore them up, burned them, or tossed them directly in the trash.  I hid this one from her.”

 

I don’t know what to say, if I’m even supposed to say  _ anything _ , and go to another picture.  Here, Evan is about eight, and he’s with Jared, who is sticking his tongue out at the camera.  Evan’s head is resting on his shoulder, his eyes crossed.  _ What a bunch of nerds _ .

 

“My favourite,” he chuckles, resting a fingertip on Jared’s face.

 

The next photos are of various graduations; elementary school and middle school, the two of them goofing off for the camera.  Pictures from each boys’ Bar Mitzvah follow, and finally, Evan, all alone, for his high school graduation.

 

“I miss having a friend,” he frowns, taking the pictures from me, then placing them beneath his pillow.  

 

“What about me?” I ask, offering a half-smile. 

 

Evan tilts his head.  “Yeah, yeah you’re my friend.”  He weakly gives me one-armed hug.

 

“Here, eat.” I give him the mac and cheese.  

 

He’s done with it in seconds, as well as the muffin and the water, like he hasn’t eaten in years.

 

“That was good, thanks, Con.”  Evan moves down in his bed so that he can rest his head on my chest.  “You’re a good friend.”

 

“Good friends don’t convince their friends to do things that will get them hurt,” I say, annoyed at myself.  “I’m really sorry, it was all my fault, if I didn’t spill the coffee on Ariana, it wouldn’t have made her hit you.”

 

Evan puts an arm across my middle as he snuggles closer.  “No, she deserved it, and they would’ve hit me anyway. There wasn’t anything you could’ve really prevented.”

 

“Do they hit you every day?” I ask delicately.

 

“Not as much anymore.  But they call me those mean words  _ all the time _ .”  

 

I stroke his soft hair.   _ I can’t believe they would dare to hurt someone like him _ .   _ Then again _ … _ I shoved him around a bit, too, before I died _ .  I reach around, noticing he’s begun to shiver, and pull the blanket up to cover his bare upper body; I figure it would hurt too much to try and get him to redress.  

 

He sighs, and moves away from me, which I kind of wish he hadn’t.  It was nice to cuddle. “But they’re right, all those things they say and said today, that I’m worthless, nothing I do matters, that I should-”

 

“I’m not gonna let you die,” I interrupt, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

 

Evan swallows, and looks back at me.  “You don't hate me because I'm.. a-and think I should- that I  _ deserve  _ to die.. just because I'm queer?”

 

“That's stuff’s all bullshit.  I would never,  _ ever _ think that.”  I open my arms wide.  “Come here.” 

 

Hesitantly, he edges into my hold.  

 

I place my arms gently around him, hoping I don’t hit any bruises.  “You should never listen to people when they say stupid, fucked-up shit like that, okay?  Those people… I can’t believe they exist, but they’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong with who you are, Evan.  Nothing.”

 

“I beg to differ,” he mumbles, then presses his face into my neck.  

 

I continue to pray that ghosts can’t get erections as I slide my hand through his hair, breathing him in.  “You’re adorable,” I murmur, unable to help myself. 

 

Evan jerks back in surprise.  “What?”

  
_ Fuck _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time, and I am very sorry for taking so long. So to make up for it, here's a very long chapter. I'm sorry the content is rather difficult.
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone had a good 2018, and I wish you all a happy new year.
> 
> -Jared


End file.
